Until Reality Starts
by penguininpink
Summary: Can things get any worse? Ron Weasley doesn't believe they can, and he's never felt so happy in his life.


**Disclaimer:** Allcharacters, objects, etc., belong to J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author Notes:** Much thanks to my lovely beta, Rhiannon.

* * *

It hurt.

His legs, his arms, his head, his fingers - _everything _hurt.

He tried concentrating on his left big toe - the one part of his body that seemed to lack any nerve endings - but it didn't work any better than it had the first twenty times he had tried it. He didn't know how he had gotten here, or where here was, although he had a vague memory of discovering some sort of Death Eater stronghold.

In the end it didn't really matter, because wherever he was, it was pitch black and he still _hurt._

Maybe talking to himself would help.

"Hello," he croaked. It wasn't much of a sound, on account that his larynx had become raw from hours of screaming, but to Ronald Weasley's sound-starved ears, it was beyond all praise. Not that it helped much, but he hadn't really expected it to.

"Hello," said a gruff voice.

Ron jumped, or would have had his muscles been capable of movement.

"Wha..! Er, hello?" he called out.

"I believe you already said that," the wryly voice said, which Ron was now sure was feminine.

"Er... right. Who are you?" wheezed Ron.

"Who am I?" the voice echoed. Silence. "I - I'm not sure. I think I'm Hermione."

"Hermione what?" asked Ron.

"I don't know."

"Oh." For some reason, none of this seemed strange to him. "Well if it makes you feel better, I'm not sure who I am either."

"It doesn't make me feel better."

"Didn't think it would," said Ron. "It was worth a try though."

Silence. ­­­

"You know," Ron said at last, "I don't think it could get any worse."

"It can always get worse."

"No," Ron attempted to shake his head, and stopped as stars suddenly flooded his vision. "I don't think it can. The only thing they can do now is kill us. And if they did that, which I don't think they will, they'd be doing me a favor. Nope. This is as bad as it gets."

At this statement, Ron felt as if a giant weight had been lifted off his shoulders. If things couldn't get worse, then he didn't have anything to worry about.

He had never felt so happy in his life.

Hysterical laughter began to bubble up from his stomach. Since his throat wasn't actually capable of laughter, it came out as more of a strangled choking sound, but Hermione still seemed to recognize it.

"You - you're _laughing?_"

"Yeah." He laughed again.

"But why?"

"Because I have no more worries! Isn't it great to be free from worry?"

"Not particularly."

"Oh. Well that's okay. You'll feel it later."

Silence.

"Did - did you tell them anything?" Ron asked.

"Who?"

"The giant monkeys that came to attack Earth."

"What?"

"The Death Eaters! Who else?"

"Oh, well ... no, I don't think I did. You?"

"I'm not sure." He thought for a moment. "No, I don't think I did."

"Good for you."

"Hey, I didn't tell them anything!"

"Yes, we've been over this."

"But don't you feel all tingly inside?"

"Of course I do. It's the after-effects of the mind potion."

"No, I mean a good tingly."

"No," a pause, "Why?"

"We didn't tell them a word! Do you have any idea how few people can make it through without breaking? When we get back home, they'll give us a medal or something."

"Or something."

Another pause.

"So what are you here for?" Ron asked.

"I'm not sure. Must have got caught during the battle."

"I think that's what happened to me too."

Neither said anything for several moments, both cherishing the simple fact that they were alive, sane and with company.

"I don't suppose anyone will rescue us," said Ron.

"I doubt it. Everyone's probably too busy partying to think of two POW's locked away in a dungeon somewhere."

The second and much more probable answer was that everyone on the side of light had been killed, but both of them tactfully avoided voicing that thought.

"I suppose you're right."

"Of course I'm right."

A pause.

"You realize what this means, don't you?" asked Ron.

"What?"

"If no one is going to rescue us, then we have to escape."

Hermione snorted, coughed violently from the action, and took several minutes to regain her breath.

"Escape? To where? _From _where?" she said disbelievingly. "We can't even sit up, how do you expect us to jump up and fly out of here?"

"I don't."

Silence.

"You're methods of explanation are astounding."

"Don't you see? They'll have to feed us eventually - "

"No they don't - "

" - and when they do, we can pretend to be in horrible shape - "

"_That_ will be difficult - "

"- and they'll have to take us to the Medical wing, or whatever they have in this place."

Silence.

"You know what," Hermione said, "that is one of the most illogical, improbable and ill-thought out escape plans I've heard in years." She would have shrugged if she could have. "It's so awful that it just might work...if they ever come back," Hermione trailed off.

"Of course it will," Ron assured her. "And even if it doesn't, things can't get worse, so there's no reason to be sad or upset about anything!" he finished cheerfully.

And Hermione thought that maybe, just maybe, he had a point.


End file.
